The Maverick's Bride-To-Order. Stella Bagwell
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Who ever heard of such a thing?”
Phillip Dalton tossed the newspaper aside and glanced down the long dinner table until his disapproving gaze landed on his second-youngest son.
Zach tried not to squirm in his chair. Not with his four brothers, two cousins, and an aunt and uncle looking on. “Dad, advertising for a wife isn’t a new concept. Back in the eighteen hundreds during the gold rush days, lots of men used the mail-order-bride system.”
Phillip shook his head with dismay. “That’s right, son. But those men were miles from civilization. They were desperate!”
Across the table, Zach’s brother Garrett let out a smug chuckle. “Zach is desperate, Dad!”
Phillip’s stern expression grew darker. “I realize everything is fun and games to you, Garrett. But this isn’t a laughing matter.”
“Oh, leave the boys alone, Phillip. Zach knows what he wants. He’s just going after it in a different way than you and I did.”
Phillip shot his brother Charles an annoyed look. “Damned right it’s different. You and I did it the traditional way. We fell in love.”
Zach purposely shoveled a forkful of roast beef into his mouth to stop himself from saying something to his father he might later regret.
Next to him, Shawn, the baby of the family, spoke up in his brother’s defense. “Well, I think Zach’s idea is a darned good one. It’s a way for him to meet women who are interested in marriage. He can always worry about falling in love later.”
“Thank you, Shawn,” Zach told him.
Garrett said, “That’s right, Shawn. And maybe Zach will be kind enough to give us some of his leftover telephone numbers.”
At the end of the table, Phillip’s expression turned to stone, while the only female at the table nervously cleared her throat and rose to her feet.
“I think it’s time for dessert,” Rita suggested. “Apple cobbler tonight. Maybe that will put everybody in a good mood.”
Later that night, in the bedroom he shared with his older brother, Zach studied his ad in the fresh edition of the Gazette. His picture looked okay, he supposed. At least his eyes were open and there were no specks of food in his teeth. But he’d be the first to admit his expression was a bit goofy. Like he’d had one too many strong margaritas.
Maybe that was because Lydia Grant had left him a little dazed. Although the woman had seemed warm and friendly, he’d gotten the impression she’d believed his “wife wanted” advertisement was foolish. And that had gotten a bit under Zach’s skin. He couldn’t put his finger on why it had bothered him. Especially when she was clearly a person who followed a different drummer. Her opinion of him shouldn’t matter one way or the other.
So why had he been wondering if the newspaper woman was married or engaged? Why couldn’t he forget about all that curly brown hair or impish smile that tilted her lips and sparked her blue eyes?
“What’s wrong, brother? Having buyer’s remorse?”
As his brother and roommate, Booker, strolled into the room, Zach tossed the paper onto the nightstand.
“I can’t have buyer’s remorse. I haven’t bought anything yet,” Zach reminded him.
Shaking his head, Booker sat down on the opposite twin bed. “You bought an ad. One that you believe will buy you a wife. That’s what I’m talking about.”
Groaning, Zach stretched out on his own bed and stared up at the ceiling. The textured plaster was better than looking at his brother’s know-it-all face. Not that he didn’t love Booker. Zach loved all of his family deeply. But so far none of them seemed to really understand where he was coming from. And being five years older than him, Booker had a tendency to always tell him what to do and how to do it.
“I didn’t hear you spouting off at the dinner table,” Zach said. “Are you in Dad’s court, too?”
Bending over, Booker began to tug off his cowboy boots. “Not exactly. You have to admit your plan to get a wife is a little unorthodox, but that’s your choice. Not Dad’s or anyone else’s.”
Encouraged by his brother’s fair-minded attitude, Zach sat up on the side of the bed and looked at him. “I tell you, Booker, I was really surprised by Dad’s reaction. He’s usually open-minded about things.”
Booker set his boots aside and began to unbutton his shirt. “This is different for Dad, Zach. He and Mom were crazy in love up until the day she died. They had something really special together and he wants that same thing for you. And for all of his sons.”
Zach swallowed hard in an effort to dislodge the hot ball of emotion stuck in his throat. Losing his mother in the wildfire that had swept over their family ranch up in Hardin in January was still so fresh he could hardly bear the pain.
“Yeah. Well, that’s exactly why I’m doing this, Booker,” he said in a raw, husky voice. “For a long time now I’ve wanted to have a marriage like our parents had. And for just as long, I’ve been going the traditional route—dating and waiting and hoping to meet a woman I’d fall in love with. But that just hasn’t happened. Hell, I’m even beginning to wonder if love means the same thing to me as it does to other guys.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Zach made a palms-up gesture. “As far as I’m concerned, just having a wife who cooked and cleaned and gave me babies would be enough to satisfy me.”
With a look of disgust, Booker tossed his shirt to the end of the narrow bed. “I can’t see that ever working. Not for me. I’m not exactly looking for a wife, but I can tell you one thing. I’d want her to love me. And only me. Otherwise, the whole thing would be meaningless.”
So Booker had the same opinion as his cousins, who’d been busily sending him text messages since his advertisement had hit the newspaper stands. All of them believed he should be thinking about falling in love first and acquiring a wife later. But that was easy for his cousins to say, Zach mentally argued. Most of them were engaged or already married. Their worries of finding a special woman were over.
Groaning, Zach raked fingers through his dark hair, then flopped onto his back. “You don’t understand, Booker. Nobody seems to. But the way I see it, time is flying by. I don’t want to keep waiting around hoping I’ll meet some girl that puts a goofy look on my face.”
“You mean like the one you’re sporting in the newspaper photo?”
Zach’s first instinct was to sit straight up and tell his brother to go jump in the river, but he stopped himself short. He didn’t want to give Booker the idea that he was trying to hide the fact that someone had already put the look of love on his face.
“I never take a good picture.” Especially when quirky Lydia had been chattering on about what a woman liked in a man. Was she a specialist on the subject? Maybe the next time he visited the newspaper office, Zach ought to ask her that very question, he thought.
Linking his hands at the back of his head, Booker stretched out on the bed. “I can understand you wanting to get married and move out on your own. As much as I love Uncle Charles and Aunt Rita, I’m getting tired of being cramped up like this. The house is about to burst at the seams. We don’t have much privacy and neither do they.”
Zach sighed. “You need to remember the reason we came here in the first place. Sure, we rebuilt Dalton’s Gulch after the wildfire, but we ended up selling it. The place didn’t feel the same without Mom. Especially for Dad. He was grieving so much I was getting concerned about his health. I think we could all see that he needed the support of family. More than just we boys could give him. It’s been good for him to be living here with Uncle Charles and Uncle Ben.”
“Good point, brother. And he has been searching for property so that we can build our own ranch again. In the meantime, I guess we should just be happy he isn’t